Staying here at Juli’s, the other night I made something ramenesque. I won’t say it was actual ramen – we used different noodles, and I was fairly interpretative with ingredients, but it came out pretty good and resembled the types of made-from-scratch ramen you get at little hole-in-the-wall shops in Japan or Korea.
I enjoyed it and Juli and Keith both liked it quite a bit. Arthur was more reticent – as is his character, especially these days. We had it again as leftovers last night.
Mexican food with good friends in east Seoul. Mexican food is easier to find in Korea than in rural Alaska.
I read weird things online, almost every day.
Today, I read an article about how cancer cells grow nanotubes and use them to suck mitochondria out of immune cells, like little teeny-tiny vampires. The article can be found here.
The “aliens within” are our body’s own cells. Sometimes they go rogue, and become cancer cells, which are definitely alien.
[daily log: walking, 1.5km]
Normally, on Thursdays Art and I go to town and do our weekly shopping and library visit, but because of how icy the road was, I decided not to. We also normally order a pre-made pizza at the place called “Papa’s Pizza” and take it home and so Thursday is “pizza night.” Yesterday, we had no pizza night. I got a bit creative, and made kimchi bokkeumbap (Korean style fried rice) – something I’ve been craving.
I’d tried the dish once before, a few years ago, for Arthur, to rather mixed reviews. So I altered the recipe some to his benefit: I doubled the amount of ham I used, I halved the amount of kimchi I added (compensating with some red pepper powder to keep it spicy), and I was generous with salt. I left out the dried seaweed garnish that is integral to the Korean version.
Arthur declared this new version entirely acceptable. Which is high praise, coming from Arthur. And I put my seaweed on the side and added it separately to my own serving. To be honest, I found the result to be remarkably close to my memories of the street-vendor version available on every corner in South Korea. It was very good.
This tree saw my little colorful plastic windmill-thingy spinning in the rain.
I had a lot of greenhouse tomatoes.
I used several of them, and some elk meat Joe gave us, to make spaghetti.
[daily log: walking, 1.5km]
This tree decided to start out near this pile of rocks.
Meanwhile I added some greenhouse-fresh green poblano peppers to a batch of fish curry.
[daily log: walking, 1.5km]
This tree is a little pine tree sapling I transplanted last year, from the muskeg about a mile east of here to a spot on lot 73. There are lots of pine trees in the muskeg but none growing around these lots, here. Probably different soil or something. Anyway, it seems to be doing okay, so far.
I made some cobbler, using mostly salmonberries and blueberries picked around the house here, but also some frozen raspberries my boss at the gift shop gave me.
[daily log: walking, 2.5km; cobblering, 1hr]
This tree served as a backdrop for this portrait of my green chili, which I harvested from my greenhouse this morning.
I installed the green chili in a batch of my fish curry, which, since Arthur considers it acceptable despite being called “curry,” I have been making now and then, as it’s currently my favorite of the dishes that I make.
[daily log: walking, 2.5km; fishcurrying, 1hr]
Arthur is adamantly opposed to curries. Because of this, and since he’ll be back soon (Saturday), I decided to make a fish curry for myself while it’s still just me alone here. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever made a fish curry. I’ve made chicken curry many times, and veggie curries of various kinds, and once I think I even attempted a spam curry, because living in Korea, one sometimes suffers a surfeit of spam (spam “collections” are often given as a gift). Anyway, I decided to make a Goan-style fish curry.
I made my curry paste first – using my stylish pre-war Korean blender.
Then I put it all together. It came out very deliciously.
In other news, I parked the boat on the ramp, so I could clean out the boathouse a little bit, and also assuming Arthur will want to take the power-washer to the bottom of the boat – though personally I’m skeptical that will make any difference with respect to the crusty barnacle-footprints that remain all over now that it’s mostly scraped.
What I’m listening to right now.
BAND-MAID, “Thrill (スリル).”
Letra.
つまらないノイズかき消すように
イヤフォンの音上がて
やつらが転ぶ隙狙ってる
Hey you 聴かせるわ
いつだってそうこの世界 は Faulty
立ち止またっら out of control
暴走気味と罵られても
I don’t care 踏み出せ
I’ve gotta be on my way (HEY!!)
真っ平らな道に 興味は見当たないの
Just breakin’ new gate (HEY!!)
“後悔” という陰謀の魔の手 かいくぐって
この上ない快感はスリルと共に 生き続けって
見たくもない光景 ばかり
四角 に閉じ込める
小さな空に弧を描く鳩
Who are you, 見上げるは
もがいたってそう リアルは Steady
自己暗示しても out of control
涙じゃ救われないなら
もう Enjoy 味わえ!
I’ve gotta be on my way (HEY!!)
答えのない 恐怖は狂気に変えれば いい
Just breakin’ new gate (HEY!!)
真っ白 に 消し去ったページ は 破り捨てろ
覚悟 の 先 へとスリル と共に 身を捧げて
いつだってそうこ の世界 は Faulty
立ち止ま たっら out off control
暴走気味と罵られても
I don’t care 踏み出せ
I’ve gotta be on my way (HEY!!)
真っ平らな道に 興味は見当たないの
Just breakin’ new gate (HEY!!)
後悔 という陰謀の魔の手 かいくぐて
この上ない快感が あたしを走らせる
覚悟 の 先 へとスリル と共に 身を捧げて
This tree finds its own way.
I made a cake.
[daily log: walking, 4.5km]
Last week, Jan gave me a Daikon – which is a vegetable popular in China and Korea that resembles a radish.
On Thursday, I made some danmuji (단무지), which is a Korean-style pickled daikon that is a ubiquitous dish in Korean restaurants, often in a jar or on a plate at every table in cheap hole-in-the-wall restaurants. I used to call them “atomic pickles” because of their bright yellow color.
Well with the daikon Jan gave, and my earlier success with radish pickles and cucumber pickles, I decided to attempt some authentic danmuji. I found a recipe, and made some.
It actually came out pretty good. The yellowness comes from turmeric, which has allegedly been linked in recent years with lots of health benefits.
Arthur even ate one.
I captured this tree’s image because of the fall-hint below and in front of it.
With hardly a summer worth mentioning, fall is upon us.
I spent the day cooking. I made my slightly well-regarded Chilean-style chupe de pescado (fish chowder). I’m not sure what my uncle Alan thought of it, but Arthur has said he likes it a lot.
And for some unfathomable reason, I made a chocolate cake.
Earlier, Alan and I walked out to around 6.5 mile. He’s a much more intensive walker than Arthur is. I should follow his example.
[daily log: walking, 7.5km]
This is a tree which I happened to see.
In other news – I “bit the bullet” today. A part-time job was offered at the Alaska Gift shop – one of the places I’d applied at some months ago, before the advent of COVID. Apparently one of the other part-timers there just quit, so Jan called me and made the offer, and I drove to town and filled in the paperwork and met the store’s owners. It’s just an entry-level retail job, such as I worked to put myself through college, at the bookstore in Minneapolis. I will be working Tuesdays and Wednesdays. We’ll see how things work out.
I could argue that it makes me feel young: “starting over” at age 55. But what to do? The teaching concept seems unlikelier by the day, up here, and … I’d rather work “dead end” retail than try to sell myself as some kind of “Telecommuting” IT person, which is the main alternative, if a job must be had.
In yet other news, my garden is growing a few beets. I decided to try an experiment, and made some pickled beets, yesterday. Arthur and I had some with dinner, this evening. They taste pretty okay.
[daily log: walking, 1km; retailing, 4hr]
… so I wanted to make something.
I attempted a berry cobbler, using salmonberries and blueberries.
It tastes delicious. But it didn’t thicken at all. It’s a berry soup. But considering it’s the first cobbler I’ve made in about 25 years, I guess just being edible is an accomplishment.
I’d offer a picture, but… you know.
[daily log: walking, 2km]
Arthur likes to make grilled cheese sandwiches with pickles. Normally he uses a spicy sweet pickle, like the Famous Dave’s brand that he prefers.
Tonight, however, he used my home-made radish pickles. And happily, they were actually pretty good on grilled cheese. Here is a pale pink radish pickle on the grilled cheese – I opened it for the photo op.
My garden was making radishes. So I decided to try an experiment. I made two jars of spicy pickled radishes, improvising a recipe found online. They look very nice.
How they taste… not sure yet. I’ll report later. Korea has pickled radishes, but they’re not spicy. Korea also has radish kimchi, called 깍두기 [kkakdugi], which is generally quite spicy. So I guess this recipe is kind of a meeting-in-the-middle of those two concepts.
I was working on my treehouse. I was using a drill to drill a hole in the tree, to attach my special treehouse mounting brackets I got last year.
The drill had enough torque to drill the hole in the tree. But my hand wasn’t strong enough to hold the drill in place, and I smashed my left index finger against the tree with the drill as is kicked against my grip rotationally.
I took a break from treehouse efforts and made some Chilean-style fish chowder (chupe de pescado) using some freezer-burned salmon and some fresh-caught halibut. You can see a nice chunk of each on the spoon.
I tend to put a lot of salad dressing on my salads.
That wasn’t always the case. But ever since my mouth surgery, I like my foods to have a more “squishy” character – easier to chew with my “handicapped” tongue (shortened, limited in range-of-motion, and without a sense of touch, due to the cancer surgery). So I pour on the salad dressing and then the salads don’t create the problems I can sometimes have, especially with pieces of lettuce adhering to the roof of my mouth where my tongue can’t find them.
Arthur, however, always looks on disapprovingly as I slather on my creamy dressings – blue cheese or ranch being my preferred ones. I suspect he just feels aware of how much money is spent on bottles of dressing, and it seems exorbitant to him. I’m really not sure why he has a right to disapprove – given his chocolate and ice cream habits. Or maybe it’s just not appealing to him, in that he would not enjoy a salad so adorned. But… anyway.
I decided to try to save some money and make my own ranch dressing. It’s not that hard – some milk, sour cream, mayo, some spices. I added some finely chopped onion.
My homemade ranch dressing was better than I had expected – better than store bought.
Meanwhile, in the morning, I did some more maintenance on our back-up heating system. So to speak. I had bought a new, bigger maul for pounding the wedge into the log-rounds to split them. The result was pleasing.
As seems to arise on a regular basis, I developed a craving for borshch. I happened to see some beets among the vegetables at the store on Thursday, so I took a piece of beef that Dean and Pam had brought to us last summer out of the freezer and made some borshch this morning in the slow cooker.
Meanwhile I keep trying to fix the old broken links in this here blog. But I don’t have a vast amount of patience for that project, sometimes.
One of my students once wrote a very memorable phrase in English just bad enough to sound gnomically brilliant:
“Cake’s existence is have eat cake.”
I have never forgotten that phrase.
So today I made a chocolate cake. It came out pretty good.
I went to a Christmas Concert in Craig today. All the “neighbors” were there – the people who live up and down Port Saint Nicholas Road: Jeri and Karl, Mike and Penny, Gary and Sandy. They’re all retirees. I felt like a youth brigade of one.
Before the concert, Jeri, Karl and I had a late lunch at their friends-in-town, Scott and Mike, both widowers I think. Scott is quite a cook. We were joking that their houses, side by side, were the “gourmet district” in Craig. We had venison stew that Jeri and Karl had made, and fresh home-baked brown bread, cornbread, lemon pie. Scott had home-made kimchi, too – it’s the best kimchi I’ve had in a long time.
I have been having a craving for borscht for a while. When I lived in Korea, I could satisfy this craving by going to a Russian restaurant (or Ukrainian, or Kazakh, etc.). Before that, I used to make it. I haven’t made it in a very long time, but I tried. My hands turned purple cutting beets.
It came out okay. I’ll give my efforts a B-.
When I was with Michelle, I often made mole poblano – the classic “chocolate chicken” in the old Aztec style. It was one of her favorites.
That was in the 1990s, of course. The last time I made it, I think, was maybe 2006. I never thought to make it since coming here to stay with Arthur because he had declared a preemptive disinterest in such an “abomination of good chocolate.” However, our friend Jan expressed interest in it, when it came up in conversation, so she convinced me to give it a try. I successfully resurrected my old recipe. I’m sure it’s not exactly the same as how I used to make it, but when I taste-tested it I could reasonably declare it “at least as good as restaurant style.”
I was surprised to learn that Arthur had no blender. I find it hard to believe, given his plethora of gadgets of all kind. So I broke out my low tech “pre-war Korean blender” (AKA stone mortar and pestle). It gave my mole an authentic Aztec flair. The picture shows the work in progress.
The completed sauce is below.
Arthur, on his own initiative, ordered a birthday cake for Juli. The thing is, Juli isn’t here – she’s down in Portland. I believe Arthur was mostly looking for an excuse to have some more chocolate cake, in the wake of the one we bought and ordered for our respective birthdays last month.
Anyway, in fact, Juli’s birthday not until two weeks from now. But we celebrated anyway.
Earlier we went into town for our Thursday shopping day. And we picked up the boat from where it was being serviced at the boat shop. Arthur surprised me, because as we were going to the boat launch area to put the boat in the water, out of the blue he said, so do you want to drive the boat back, or the car?
Our standard division of labor on these ventures has always been that Arthur drives the boat, while I drive the car. I couldn’t quite figure out the motivation behind this offer, but I often have found that when Arthur offers for me to do something that is normally his remit, it’s because he wants me to. So I took it to mean that he preferred that I drive the boat. So for the first time ever, I drove the boat alone, while Arthur drove the Blueberry home.
I did OK. I’m not as good as Arthur at backing the boat up – which I had to do when departing the boat launch. So it got a bit hairy when I was trying to go around another boat parked at the boat launch. But once on open water, I made my way home without incident. It was quite windy and choppy, this afternoon, on the open bay between Craig Harbor and the entrance to Port Saint Nicholas. Perhaps that’s why Arthur wanted me to drive the boat? I even managed to land and tie up the boat alone, at the dock at home, in a quite gusty east wind.
What I’m listening to right now.
Cake, “Comfort Eagle.”
Lyrics.
We are building a religion
We are building it bigger
We are widening the corridors
And adding more lanes
We are building a religion
A limited edition
We are now accepting callers
For these pendant key chains
To resist it is useless
It is useless to resist it
His cigarette is burning
But he never seems to ash
He is grooming his poodle
He is living comfort eagle
You can meet at his location
But you’d better come with cash
Now his hat is on backwards
He can show you his tattoos
He is in the music business
He is calling you “DUDE!”
Now today is tomorrow
And tomorrow today
And yesterday is weaving in and out
And the fluffy white lines
That the airplane leaves behind
Are drifting right in front
Of the waning of the moon
He is handling the money
He is serving the food
He knows about your party
He is calling you “DUDE!”
Now do you believe
In the one big sign
The double wide shine
On the boot heels of your prime
Doesn’t matter if you’re skinny
Doesn’t matter if you’re fat
You can dress up like a sultan
In your onion head hat
We are building a religion
We are making a brand
We’re the only ones to turn to
When your castles turn to sand
Take a bite of this apple
Mr. corporate events
Take a walk through the jungle
Of cardboard shanties and tents
Some people drink Pepsi
Some people drink Coke
The wacky morning DJ
Says democracy’s a joke
He says now do you believe
In the one big song
He’s now accepting callers
Who would like to sing along
He says, do you believe
In the one true edge
By fastening your safety belts
And stepping towards the ledge
He is handling the money
He is serving the food
He is now accepting callers
He is calling me “DUDE!”
He says now do you believe
In the one big sign
The double wide shine
On the boot heels of your prime
There’s no need to ask directions
If you ever lose your mind
We’re behind you
We’re behind you
And let us please remind you
We can send a car to find you
If you ever lose your way
We are building a religion
We are building it bigger
We are building
A religion
A limited
Edition
We are now accepting callers
For these beautiful
Pendant key chains
One reason I enjoy my friend Peter’s company is that we both have a rather geeky, quasi-philological approach to the Korean language. This is not necessarily the best approach to language learning, but it is what it is.
Our neighbor Jeri brought by some home-made kimchi that had been given to her by another friend of hers. Just imagine: Alaska-made kimchi – such is globalization. To taste-test the kimchi, I broke out my stash of Korean style spicy ramen, of the famous brand 신라면 [sinramyeon]. As Peter and I ate kimchi with spicy instant ramen for lunch, we ended up speculating on the Chinese character, 辛, prominently displayed as the brand mark for the product, as in this picture below.
We both assumed it meant “new” – the most common stand-alone meaning for the Korean syllable 신 [sin]. I also speculated it might be a family name. But neither of those are the case. After a bit of searching on the online naver.com dictionary (the best online Korean dictionary) we found that in fact the definition is given as follows:
1. 맵다 2. 독하다(毒–) 3. 괴롭다, 고생하다 4. 슬프다 5. 살생하다(殺生–) 6. 매운 맛 7. 여덟째 천간(天干) 8. 허물, 큰 죄(罪) 9. 새, 새 것(=新)
That definition #1? “Spicy.”
So in fact sinramyeon means exactly what the English label says: “spicy ramen.”
The kimchi, by the way, was quite acceptable.
Later, Peter and I drove down to Hydaburg, to look at totems and witness the isolated, mostly-native Haida village. We saw bilingual street signs.
It rained all day.
After that, on the way back home, we stopped and saw the totems in Klawock, too. Peter gave a stump speech in the Klawock city park.
Since coming back from Australia I’ve developed a little mini-tradition of making Chilean style chupe de pescado (spicy fish chowder) every Sunday. I use the less perfect pieces of frozen salmon Arthur has. Partly, it’s one of the few dishes that I cook well that he seems to consider “acceptable.”
I love to make curries, but Arthur doesn’t like those, and he considers mole poblano to be a sacrilege against chocolate. I haven’t tried making borshch, but when I described it to him he was not at all impressed by the concept. I made fried rice once, but he didn’t seem to like it much either. So these things I’d have to make on my own without hope of patronage. That, of course, lowers the incentive to make them.
I took a walk this afternoon. This time I went west. I found the big chocolate factory. There is a street behind the factory called Chocolate Avenue (sign at right in picture – the big white building is the chocolate factory).
Now I understand why Arthur likes to visit his brother in Montrose.
Some other pictures.
Call this daily tree #2.
Tomorrow, Arthur and I drive northwest. It looks like we’re not going to meet Arthur’s friends in Reno, so we’ll be heading straight for Portland. Our holiday adventure is coming to a close. We’ll have a bit over a week in Portland and then we return to Alaska.
[daily log: walking, 9km]
I went to Madison with my friend Bob. He had to do a radio interview, related to publicizing his upcoming concert which he is conducting.
While he was in the radio station doing his interview, I had some time to kill walking around Madison. I have never lived in Madison, but I have spent a lot of time here over there years, because it’s where my sister went to grad school, and where several friends also went to grad school, and of course now, where my friend Bob teaches and conducts music.
I took this picture looking up State Street, which connects the state capitol building (in the distance) with the university campus (behind me).
My friend Doug has long described Madison as “Disneyland for college students” and that seems an accurate moniker. It’s everything you want in a college town.
Madison occupies a striking isthmus between two lakes. So a few blocks north of State Street you’re on the shores of Lake Mendota.
Later, after his interview, Bob and I met with Martin, who is the son of my friends Mark and Amy who I just finished visiting up in Eagan, Minnesota. Martin works in downtown Madison, so it was easy for him to get away from work and have lunch.
I found a place selling poke. Poke (/poʊˈkeɪ/) is a bit like a Hawaiian version of 비빔밥 (bibimbap) or 볶음밥 (bokkeumbap). You mix rice with various toppings, including raw or cooked fish, veggies, and sauces. I had one with very hot sauce and raw tuna and tofu. It was delicious.
Here is a selfie of me, Martin and Bob at the poke joint.
Later, I took a long walk to a nature reserve north of Bob and Sarah’s house. I went past the photogenic Whitewater water tower.
[daily log: walking, 4km]
Last night, using leftovers from the previous night, I made a chopped roast hash with potatoes and stuff, and we used the jar of chili sauce that Juli had sent with me to gift to Mark and Amy as garnish. It was pretty good.
Today, I didn’t do a lot. It was one of those “days off” that is part of this cross-country misadventure.
One thing: Mark has his parents old RV in an outdoor storage (guarded parking) location. We went to check on it, and the battery was dead. We got very cold taking out the battery.
[daily log: walking, 1km]
I went to visit the craft brewery owned by my brother-in-law. It’s pretty interesting that he has this business. I tasted a few of the beers he makes there, and I bought a case of porter which I might give away as gifts or drink at some point.
Here is a picture of Wendy, me and Eric at the brewery, called Liquid Mechanics.
Later, I had dinner with my sister Brenda and her two kids (well one – Sarah wasn’t joining for dinner) at their house. It was nice talking to my sister.
[daily log: walking, 2km]
I made chupe de pescado. This is a South American dish, a type of fish chowder. I had it frequently in Chile, and later I had it often at a Peruvian restaurant in Newport Beach, California, when I was working there one year. So I made some. I thought it came out pretty good, given my own handicapped taste-buds.
Here is the picture after everything is made.
Here is my serving for dinner.
Arthur pronounced it "acceptable" – which is praise, in his language. Wayne liked it too.
Here is my recipe, adapted from various found online.
Mi receta de chupe de pescado blanco al estilo alasquense:
INGREDIENTES PRINCIPALES
6 patatas
2 cebollas picadas
1 zanahoria rallada
1 cucharada de pimentón dulce
½ cucharadita de orégano
4 cucharadas de mantequilla
2 tazas de pan rallado
3 tazas de leche o leche y crema mixtas
1 taza y media de caldo
ajo picado al gusto
sal al gusto
pimienta al gusto
½ kg de pez blanco (eg hipogloso)
PREPARACIÓN DE LA RECETA
En primer lugar, pelamos y cortamos las 6 patatas en trozos y las ponemos a cocer en agua salada. Reservamos.
Salteamos en mantequilla las cebollas en un cazo con el pimentón dulce, orégano y zanahoria hasta que las cebollas estén tiernas.
Añadimos 2 tazas de pan rallado, las tres tazas de leche, la taza y media de caldo y agua a partes iguales, sal y pimienta al gusto, el pescado.
Añadimos también las patatas, tapamos todo y lo dejamos a fuego lento hasta que el pescado esté hecho, aproximadamente de 5 a 8 minutos.
El chupe deberá quedar tan espeso como una bechamel, pero si no nos gusta tan espeso, podemos añadir un poco más de leche.
[daily log: walking, 3km; tromping, 100m]
I got one full day off before the slew of appointments resume with Arthur.
So we took a walk up to the tree farm. There were a lot of ripe blackberries along the road, so he and I picked berries, and brought them back to Juli's house. Juli made a blackberry pie.
Blackberries remind me of my childhood, since my home in northern California was surrounded, as Juli's home is, with abundant wild blackberries.
My body is still sore and achey from my storage unit adventures last week.
[daily log: walking, 4km]
When I lived in Valdivia, Chile, in 1994, I stayed at a guesthouse (casa de huéspedes) while I took classes at the Universidad Austral, which was a kilometer walk across the river on the island. That was a very cold several months, living there, because it was the Chilean winter, August-October, and the Chileans don't believe in any kind of central heating, and the guesthouse wouldn't allow electric space-heaters in our rooms.
It only snowed once, but it was always hovering right above freezing, with neverending drizzle and rain and overcast skies. So I would huddle in the guesthouse's dining room, by a wood stove there, when it was lit. The landlady's cooking was a unique style in my experience. She was German-Chilean, but several generations removed from Germany. I have no idea what to call her cuisine. What was memorable were the single-dish meals she served, made of pasta or rice, always with some kind of tomato-based sauce, 
sometimes with meat, generally with beans, and always with a fried egg or two on top, which I would mash into the concoction before eating. It wasn't particularly delicious, but it was always reliable and filling. I don't know if this cooking style is common in Chilean homes, or even, specifically, southern Chilean or German-Chilean traditions, or if it was more idiosyncratic to that guesthouse's landlady. I did experience something similar at a hotel restaurant in Punta Arenas, but with ñoquis (gnocchi), possibly due to the strong Argentinian influence down there (Punta Arenas is only connected to the rest of Chile by road via Argentina), as I think of ñoquis as being very characteristically Argentinian.
Sometimes, in the years since, I have made various half-hearted efforts to recreate what I think of "Chilean tomato glop with egg". The other day, I can proudly say, I came as close as I ever have to recreating the look and feel of the original. I was finishing off a batch of rice, using a fresh tomato and onion and some leftover chopped ham, I added in half a can of Mexican canned beans (yes, you can buy that in Korea) and two poached eggs. I can't comment on the taste aspect, given the radical transformations my taste-buds have undergone in the intervening years. But anyway, I was happy with having accomplished it. So I took a picture.
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]
